Complications
by Firebirdie
Summary: Vette and Evren talk sexuality.
**A/N:** Yes, yes, I know, Vette is only romanceable by male PCs and something something heteronormativity I DON'T CAAAAARE vette is not straight fight me

 **Complications**

 **o.O.o**

Another sleepless night finds them sitting side by side at the galley counter. Vette nurses a glass of whiskey; Evren holds a mug of spiced tea close.

"You know what sucks?" Vette says.

"What?"

"I can't even just be happy we got through that mess in the Nexus Room without anyone hitting on me."

Evren looks at her, resting his forearms on the countertop. "How so?"

She glowers into her whiskey. "What _really fucking sucks_ is that even though people don't get up in my face much anymore, it's not because of me. It's because they think I belong to you. Usually in the literal sense."

"Ah, yes, because what else could we possibly be but master and slave."

"Right? And I don't want to have to die on that hill every single time we meet someone who just doesn't get it, and sometimes we _can't_ if it's a bigshot Sith or whatever. Have I mentioned lately that I really, really hate this?"

"Probably, but it does bear repeating."

Vette sighs heavily and rubs at her eyes. "Sorry. Venting."

Evren shrugs. "You're constantly surrounded by people who refuse to acknowledge your very personhood. Your anger is more than justified."

"Thanks, _my lord,_ " Vette says dryly. When she glances over he looks embarrassed, hiding behind the rim of his mug. She shakes her head. "And even if they do treat me like I'm almost worthy of respect, they think you're fucking me."

Evren shudders. "No, no, and _hells no_."

"It was, uh, kind of a relief, when you told me you were totally disinterested," Vette admits.

"I can imagine why."

". . . Can I ask when you figured it out? That you weren't into people that way?"

Evren looks at her sideways but answers after a moment's consideration. "I didn't put words to it until Korriban. It was the first time I'd been around so many people my own age for so long, and we were encouraged to use every weapon at hand if it would confer an advantage. Some of them tried to play upon each other's feelings. I was . . . somewhatconfused."

"Ha, yeah, I can see how that'd be weird."

"The fratricidal scion of an ancient line, apparently immune to everyone's wiles? Very weird indeed."

"Huh? No, no, I meant—them. Not you. I mean, you are weird, but not because of that."

". . . Oh." Evren ducks his head, clears his throat. "But, ah, that was when I realized the mere thought of _lovemaking_ lay somewhere between incomprehensible and repulsive."

Vette hesitates, then says, "How did you know? That it wasn't just the situation or whatever?"

Evren smiles crookedly. "On reflection, I'd never once looked at another being and thought _I'd like to mash my anatomy against yours._ "

Vette laughs outright, but trails off within seconds.

"Are you all right?" Evren asks. "If I offended, I apologize."

"Nah, you're fine, I'm just—thinking."

"About?"

Vette exhales through her nose. "For me, it's . . . complicated. There's this idea about Twi'lek women—that it's all about other people wanting _us_. What we actually want doesn't come into it. We're just . . . things. Pretty bodies. We exist to be used. So that already makes anything involving sex kind of tricky. And I don't know if I'm just scared of being reduced to a _thing_ , or if I'm really not interested, or what, but—yeah. It's a mess. I think I'm a little more into women? Maybe? But—I don't know, thinking about actually having sex with _anyone_ kinda freaks me out. Most people I've told that to just say it's because I'm _inexperienced_ , or I just haven't found the right person yet. And I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you know how that feels."

Evren grimaces. "I, at least, usually have a few social buffers to prevent them from pressing the issue."

"Yeah." Vette gulps her drink and shakes herself a little at the alcohol burning down her throat. "They could be right but—just—what if I don't even _want_ to find out, huh? What if I don't want it to fucking _matter_ so much to them?"

"Then you don't have to find out." Evren's voice goes sharp, almost a snarl. "You owe them _nothing_. Not answers, not explanations, _nothing._ You are who and what you are, and no one else has any right to define that, or demand that _you_ define it in a way that their pathetic little minds can understand."

"Fuck them," Vette says. She knocks back the rest of the liquor, coughs. "Or, y'know. Don't."

Evren laughs darkly and raises his cup. "I'll drink to that."

 **o.O.o**

 _end_


End file.
